


Breathe Me In

by wretchedhag



Series: FGO/Kinktober [7]
Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Burnplay, Frottage, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27335353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wretchedhag/pseuds/wretchedhag
Summary: Yan Qing and Izou have some fun with cigarettes.
Relationships: Okada Izou | Assassin/Yan Qing | Assassin
Series: FGO/Kinktober [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956010
Kudos: 9





	Breathe Me In

**Author's Note:**

> for the day 26 prompt, "smoking". it's obviously not october anymore, but i still want to do the rest of the prompts of this challenge so i'll be posting throughout november (...and probably december, too, considering how slowly i work LOL). please look forward to it, and thank you for reading!

It’s a lazy mid-morning day in Luluhawa. The sunlight streams into the room, carried on a cool breeze, through the open balcony door. Yan Qing and Izou had been to the beach earlier and the smell of the sea still clings to their bodies; they had come back to the hotel with the intention to shower, but they never quite made it that far. 

Instead, they’ve been lounging on the bed for the better part of an hour. Yan Qing lifts his arms over his head and stretches his back, shifting his weight across Izou’s lap. Izou brings his cigarette to his lips and takes a drag while his eyes appreciatively roam across the sunlit planes of Yan Qing’s painted torso. 

“Mind sharing?” Yan Qing gestures towards Izou’s cigarette. 

Izou rolls his eyes but places it between Yan Qing’s lips, nonetheless. Yan Qing breathes in and holds the smoke in his lungs and appreciates the taste of nicotine on his tongue. As he exhales, he watches the ephemeral blue-grey smoke as it curls and dissipates towards the ceiling. 

“When’re you gonna stop smoking these cheap cigarettes? They taste like shit.” Yan Qing quips.

“Get your own, then,” Izou reaches out to snatch the cigarette back but Yan Qing bats his hand away.

“Hey, I didn’t say I wouldn’t smoke ‘em.”

He takes another drag then sits up and wraps an arm around Izou’s neck while using his other hand to draw the cigarette away from his mouth. Yan Qing blows the smoke directly into Izou’s face, and Izou shoot off a glare.

“Asshole,” he grumbles. 

“C’mon, we’re sharing, right? I’m just returning the favor.” 

“That what it was?”

“Mmm, fine. How’s this?”

Yan Qing puts the cigarette between his lips and moves so that he’s straddling Izou’s hips. He holds in the smoke as leans close, and Izou catches his drift. Izou opens his mouth and Yan Qing exhales directly into it and passes the smoke over. 

They continue that way for a while, lazily passing the cigarette to one another and breathing in each other’s secondhand smoke. In the moments that his hands are free, Yan Qing slips them underneath the hem of Izou’s shirt. It’s gotta be the ugliest patterned aloha shirt he’s ever seen, and he has half a mind to rip it off Izou but none of the motivation to follow through. He settles for running his palms up Izou’s flank and across his abs up to his chest instead.

The cigarette is down to the filter now, and Izou snubs out the last few bright embers against the ashtray on the bedside table. Yan Qing takes the opportunity to catch Izou’s lips as he turns his head back to face forward. He presses his tongue into Izou’s mouth and licks against Izou’s tongue and teeth, tasting the smoke and nicotine on his palate. Their kisses are slow and sloppy, with no sense of urgency at all. 

Izou’s hands slither into the back of Yan Qing’s swim trunks and down his backside until he’s groping at his ass. Yan Qing rolls his hips forward against Izou’s and elicits a groan that reverberates over his tongue and into his mouth. They grind against one another and feel each other up, both coming to hardness. 

Yan Qing moves up on his knees and Izou hooks his fingers into the waistband of Yan Qing’s shorts and pulls them down in one smooth motion. Izou shimmies out of his own shorts and kicks them off the bed as Yan Qing spits into his own palm to slick it. He presses their cocks together, wraps his hand around them, and begins to stroke. 

“Aah, I want another smoke…” Izou groans and reaches over for his pack of cigarettes and lighter. 

Yan Qing watches as Izou flicks open the pack and shakes out a cigarette, catching it between his lips. His thumb slips on the lighter’s catch, his hands sweaty and shaking slightly, but he gets it on the second try. Smoke whorls and fills the space between them and the scent of nicotine overpowers that of sea salt. 

The burning tip of Izou’s cigarette brightens and fades with Izou’s breathing and it makes an idea form in Yan Qing’s mind. 

“Hey,” Yan Qing says, drawing Izou’s attention.

“Hm?”

“You like leaving marks on people, right?”

“Yeah. So what?” Izou tilts his head to the side and looks at Yan Qing like he’s inspecting him up and down. “You ain’t got a lot of bare skin with those tattoos, in case ya haven’t noticed.” 

“I was thinking about marks on _you_ ,” Yan Qing replies and swipes the cigarette with his free hand. He knocks the ash off into the ashtray and says, “How d’you feel about cigarette burns?”

“Never tried it. But go ahead—knock yourself out.”

Yan Qing brings the glowing tip of the cigarette to the dip in Izou’s collarbone and presses it against his skin; Izou winces slightly, but in Yan Qing’s hand he feels Izou’s cock throb in response. When Yan Qing pulls the cigarette back there’s a fresh, raw circle of a burn.

“Seems like you liked that.” Yan Qing grins.

“Don’t gotta be smug about it,” Izou grumbles. 

All the same, he tugs his collar aside to expose more of his neck. Yan Qing takes the invitation and presses the cigarette to the side of Izou’s neck this time, diagonally up from the mark he left just moments earlier. Izou inhales sharply, his hips twitching upwards, and bunches the sheets between his fingers.

“Shit…” he hisses.

Yan Qing places a few more burns scattered around Izou’s neck and collarbone. He basks in the pink flush on Izou’s cheeks, the sweat beaded on his brow, and the way the muscles in his neck tighten with each burning touch. When he’s done, Yan Qing leans back and takes a drag on the cigarette and admires his handiwork of the constellation of burns; they really do look sexy on Izou’s skin. 

He holds the end of the cigarette to Izou’s lips and lets him take a few more puffs before setting it aside on the rim of the ashtray. Yan Qing puts his mouth on Izou’s neck and sucks at the sensitive burns he made and works his wrist faster. Izou’s hands encircle Yan Qing’s to assist him, and the heat builds between the spaces where their bodies touch as their breathing becomes more erratic. 

Izou comes with a choked cry and Yan Qing follows closely behind. As he comes down, Izou flops backwards against the pillows and pushes his bangs back with a sigh. Yan Qing carelessly wipes his hand on the sheets and climbs off Izou’s lap to lay by his side.

Looks like they still aren’t moving from this bed anytime soon. 


End file.
